Rise Up, You Too
At first, the uprising that began in Bohemia—Prague, under Austro-Hungarian rule—demanded a level of autonomy on par with Hungary's. This national revolt laid bare the structural weaknesses of the Dual Monarchy in the age of nationalism.
"A Triple Monarchy instead of a Dual one?"
"Are they out of their minds?"
Factional conflicts: "Hey, wait! We're both radicals, aren't we?"
"What do you mean 'both radicals'? Don't lump us together!"
Ideological clashes. As if they had never united under anyone's design, the national fighters and the vanguard split apart. The nationalists trembled with rage at the vanguardists, who had now joined hands with the imperial army.
They were the ones who incited the uprising in the first place!
But the remaining liberals had no hope. There had been a crown prince advocating for greater freedoms for the nationalities, but he clashed ideologically with the emperor, who insisted on sticking with Austro-Hungary even if it meant expanding social insurance.
And Austro-Hungary was still under the emperor's firm grip. As long as he lived, the crown prince was little more than a vice president.
"Disperse."
With the working class and vanguard cutting ties, the citizens and liberals demanding even greater freedoms were brutally trampled under the king's "hooves."
The irony was that Bohemia was left only with pure leftists—straight-up reds—and reactionaries.
"Now's the time?"
"Seems like it."
In exchange for allying with the king—unlike the liberals—they demanded not national liberation, but class liberation. Unlike before, they wanted a voice for the workers too. It was pure Nazism, no different. Well, theirs was a workers' party after all. And the leader was Austrian, wasn't he?
"Hmm, very well."
The emperor could tolerate that. Austro-Hungary had no choice but to be lenient toward workers from the start. In a realm where ethnic conflict was a constant, they couldn't afford class conflict on top. As long as they stayed united under Austro-Hungary like always, the emperor was willing to yield some seats to them.
And so, a council-based autonomous government was established in Bohemia’s Prague. They didn't have parliamentary rights like Hungary, but workers gained some real influence among themselves. In other words, unions were born.
On the night of the revolution—with all the "preparations" complete, including bombs planted everywhere—Comrade Lenin gathered his comrades.
"We're ready now."
Swiss secret accounts, Bohemia’s arms industry, and Bavaria’s anti-Berlin sentiment. Britain and France, who loathed revolution as much as Germany did, couldn't easily interfere, but conversely, Germany couldn't move freely because of those same Britain and France. Here, he would plant the banner of revolution.
Then, Germany's other leftists would be persecuted by the rightists showing their true colors, realizing no one but him and the vanguard could save them.
"Is this really the best option?"
"Honestly, time is running out. The world faces a depression because of the capitalists, and they're pinning the blame on workers' strikes."
"Without a mass awakening among the working class right now, revolution in Germany at least is impossible. It'll be mercilessly crushed."
He absolutely couldn't let that happen. Was revolution impossible? No. Revolution was inevitable. Even if not in this Germany, no matter how suppressed, there would be comrades rising up anywhere, anytime.
The problem was what happened in between.
The former Secretary General comrade had once advised him: Why not let the imperialists wage their great war among themselves, then rebuild the ruins after they all died off?
Not wrong. But to Lenin, it was contradictory. True imperialists would just drive comrades into hell while sipping beer and pissing from the sidelines. That wouldn't do.
The comrade said something like, let 10 million, 20 million die, and even the imperialists would crawl to the lighthouse on their own. But to Lenin, that seemed excessively harsh and cruel.
Even if the imperialists all keeled over foaming at the mouth, why sacrifice savable comrades too? That negated the point of liberation. Revolution was for saving people, not letting comrades get swept up in imperialism's internal contradictions, dying off, then planting a revolutionary flag on the pile. What would that be but land-grabbing?
Seeing the Secretary General comrade holding a military parade made it clear: time was truly short now.
Some sacrifice was inevitable. Even if he died in the process and darkness lingered longer, Lenin recalled the face of the lighthouse at the eastern edge.
'The flame will be protected.'
The Munich Revolution had begun.
"A riot has broken out in Bavaria Munich!"
Benito Mussolini burst in.
"Rivolta? No, è una rivoluzione."
"The moment to rise up has finally come to us."
Italy, especially northern Italy, was fed up with pouring money into developing the impoverished south and into a feeble army. Imperialism be damned—they'd already lost in Ethiopia last time, sinking into defeatism all around.
Mussolini, the young Italian revolutionary hiding out in Austria, saw it all as the fault of the central empire kicking off imperialist adventures: the German Empire.
Germany and imperialism had shoved Italy into Africa. Recent rumors from Italy suggested they'd do it again—dump them back in Africa, in those deserts. Whose fault was that? All those German bastards'. They feared Italy and its comrades stabbing their soft underbellies. So they egged them on to Africa.
"Comrade Mussolini, even if we rise up, is there any way we can help?"
"Why not? Don't we have ourselves?"
Mussolini thumped his chest.
"Tell the Italian comrades about Munich and march there together."
"Just talk?"
"What do you mean 'just'? That's everything."
Mussolini himself wasn't thrilled, but Italy, Austria, and Germany were the Triple Alliance—entente powers. Marching from Italy through Austria to Germany? Not impossible. It would just spark a diplomatic incident.
Impulsive Mussolini didn't think diplomacy would trip them up. He figured it would protect them instead.
"The Munich revolution is just the beginning. Rise with the comrades there and spread it to Italy. That's the path for our homeland."
"...Alright, let's do it then."
They weren't thrilled, but deep down they wanted to see revolutionary Munich. No objections in theory.
'Father, watch over me.'
Mussolini thrilled at the thought of returning to Rome in silks with his comrades. Rome seemed to call to him.
"Your Excellency, this is no time to play music."
"What?"
"The Munich riot is spreading to the surroundings."
"I know."
"...?"
"What I'm playing is my own dirge for the comrades."
The comrades' struggle to prevent World War I, sparked by capitalism and imperialism. How could I stop it?
As someone for whom World War I must happen, it was ironically impossible for me to halt their desperate flailing. They wanted fewer deaths— what could I say?
So I sent Lenin comrade plenty of generous aid. As subsidies.
"Your Excellency, then we..."
"The Great War will definitely happen."
"In that case, we'll prepare operational plans accordingly."
"Do that."
Would that revolution succeed? I didn't think so. The fruits of imperialism were too sweet; they had to drink more to quench the thirst. Especially in Europe, the heartland of imperialism? No way.
Even in our Korea, malcontents claiming we must shoulder East Asia's burden were multiplying. Korea's improving fortunes weren't from exploiting colonies but from our comrades working hard—yet no one acknowledged it.
In the end, the masses would say, "Keep going with imperialism." They were benefiting and wanted more. Only the marginalized, suffering, ignored, despised workers would scream to end it.
How could that succeed? The Russian revolution's success baffles me more. How do you kick the ball into your own goal and still win?
To dismantle imperialism's social success equation, the masses must change themselves. For that, they need less exploitation.
"Less exploitation so they stop exploiting? That's a bit much, even for a joke."
"Do you see any other way besides the vanguard?"
Honestly, Lenin comrade had a point. I could talk because I'm at the top, but other countries couldn't.
I saw the reds resorting to armed uprisings, sabotage, and red terror partly because society didn't see them as dialogue partners. In my Korea, whether Russian or Japanese reds, they just drank and brawled over "talk doesn't work," not pointing guns at each other's heads.
That alone showed the problem wasn't the reds—it was glaringly clear to me who and what it really was.
"The vested interests won't let go until they're killed or near death, so beat them till they hand it over."
Even Greek democracy started with swords and threats.
"Vanguard?"
"Vanguard vanguard."
On that, Lenin comrade and I agreed: vested interests never relinquish power willingly.
Methodologically, I aimed to deform class structures by making everyone a vested interest in their own way. Lenin wanted to flip the hourglass—try a flashy heaven-defying reversal. Sure, new classes would form inside, but who was I to judge with my own deep karma?
"If they just let 10 or 20 million die miserably without blinking, the revolution would succeed easier, but they choose the hard path."
That's what makes them reds. Reds never take the easy road.
I just knew their efforts to save people wouldn't bear fruit.
Europe needed death now, no matter what anyone said. After the Black Death, humanism bloomed. Propaganda alone wasn't enough without religion. Only massive renewal—tens of millions dead—would change the masses.
I knew it. So I waited.
My vault held dozens of plans to trigger World War I.
Go ahead, succeed, Lenin comrade. For my comrades, I'm prepared to let tens of millions of others die cold.
He knew it too.
If he failed as I expected, I'd join World War I, then pivot to capitalism post-Great Depression when global capitalism crumbled.
But if he succeeded? No idea. All my plans presupposed World War I.
Still, my heart raced.